Sparking Sara (The Men on Fire Series)

by Samantha Christy

  “Love you?” I yell. “Oliver, do you know how many times I had to talk myself into letting you kiss me? Letting you touch me? I kept telling myself I was being ridiculous. That you were my fiancé and I needed to give it a chance. But deep down, I knew something wasn’t right. I should have listened to my gut. I should have followed my instincts when every time you touched me, I thought about—”

  Suddenly, I remember who’s listening to this entire conversation.

  “You thought about what?” Oliver asks. “You thought about him? Denver? That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? He’s been feeding you lies. I knew that motherfucker wanted you from the start.”

  “Denver has been nothing but gracious and helpful. He’s encouraged me to be with you.”

  Oliver laughs. “I’ll bet my right arm he’s the one who told you about the phone. Is that what you were doing down in the bathroom? Was he reading you our texts? And you believe him?”

  “He showed them to me, Oliver. Of course I believe him. He has no reason to lie to me.”

  “The hell he doesn’t. He wants to fuck you, Sara.”

  Visions of our forbidden kisses flash through my mind. “He’s with Nora.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  I nod. “Right. Because in your world, it’s okay to cheat.”

  “In your world, too, luv.”

  “Don’t ever call me that again,” I say through gritted teeth. I walk to the closet and get out my suitcase, opening it on the bed. Then I pull an entire drawer from the dresser and dump out my clothes. “I don’t live in that world anymore.”

  “You’re going back there for him?” he asks. “He’s no better than me, you know. Are you really willing to be his slut while he’s with another woman?” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Sara. Please stay. Give it another chance. No more lies, I promise.”

  “I’m not going to be anyone’s slut. Least of all yours.” I rip my clothes off the hangers in the closet and throw them into my suitcase. Then I slip on my shoes, grab my purse, and head for the door, pulling my suitcase behind me. Before I walk out, I look back at him. He looks like a broken man. His eyes are filled with tears, making me wonder if what he said is true. Did he really fall in love with me? I almost feel sorry for him. Almost.

  “If you try to contact me again, I’ll call the police and tell them everything. I’m quite sure you’ve broken some laws by deceiving me, not to mention the ones you broke with the paintings. I’ll have your stuff sent to your real apartment. You’ll have nothing to do with me, professionally or otherwise. Is that clear?”

  “Sara …”

  “Is that clear, Oliver?”

  He backs up and sits on the bed, nodding over and over.

  “I’m so sorry, Sara.”

  Those are the last words I hear him say as I walk out of the room and race down the stairs. I don’t bother saying anything to his parents. What is there to say? They were just another part of his lies. And despite the fact that Oliver is a conniving bastard, his parents couldn’t have been nicer to me. I don’t want to hurt them. I’m sure he’ll do what he does best and make up more lies to explain my departure.

  I walk to the corner and hail a taxi. Then I sit in the back seat and cry. Not only have I lost the past three years, but now, the past three months. I’m not even sure who I am anymore.

  I hear a muffled voice and remember the call. I pull my phone out of my pocket. “Denver—I’m sorry, I forgot you were there.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “No.”

  “What can I do?”

  “I’m not sure there’s anything anyone can do.”

  “I’m so sorry,” he says. “You didn’t deserve any of this.”

  “Are you sure about that?” I ask. “I’m no better than he is, Denver. I was a lying cheat myself. I was sleeping with Benny when I was with Oliver. And Oliver and I were just using each other. Who knows what else I was doing. I was a horrible, horrible person.”

  “That’s not you anymore, Sara.”

  Hot tears roll down my cheeks. “That’s the problem. I don’t know who I am. Listen, I have to go. I’m headed to the airport.”

  “Text me your flight details when you know them.”

  “Okay. Bye, Denver.”

  I don’t text him as promised. But I do buy a first-class ticket and then drink myself into a stupor, hoping I can sleep without dreaming. Without dreaming of deceitful pasts and fake futures. Without dreaming of grey eyes staring into those of another woman.

  Chapter Thirty

  I don’t know whether to laugh or cry when I see Denver waiting for me on the other side of customs. Our eyes lock, and all the reasons I had for not telling him my flight details just fade away.

  I think about how he saved me—again. He saved me from sleeping with Oliver. He saved me from a future full of lies and deceit.

  I’m exhausted from the flight. From the second time change in two days. From trying to wrap my head around everything.

  And when he walks up to me, I fall into his arms. He doesn’t say a word. He just holds me. I don’t say a word. I just let him. I’ve never felt as safe as when I’m in his arms. I don’t want to let go.

  But then I open my eyes and see all the people around us, reminding me of where we are.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask. “How did you know what flight I’d taken?”

  “Based on the airline listed on the original itinerary you gave me before you left, I looked up all the flights from London to New York and picked the most plausible one.”

  I smile at the thought of the lengths he’s gone to in order to help me. Not just now, but since day one. And I didn’t realize how much I needed to see him until I saw him waiting for me.

  He grabs my suitcase. “Come on, you must be tired. Did you get any sleep on the plane?”

  “A little.”

  I don’t tell him that every time I fell asleep, I had awful dreams. Dreams of my life with Oliver. Dreams of Denver’s life with Nora. Dreams of the person I’m finding out I used to be.

  We get into the back of a cab and then he hands me a phone. My old beat-up phone, presumably. “I figured you’d want this,” he says.

  I look at it hesitantly before taking it from him.

  “How much did you go through?” I ask.

  “Enough to find out what Oliver had been doing.”

  I look out the window at the skyline, mortified that Denver knows the kind of person I was before. And I know enough to know it was the kind of person Denver Andrews wouldn’t be caught dead with.

  I turn on the phone and scroll through my pictures and texts, piecing together the last few years of my life. It takes me less than five minutes to be so disgusted with what I discover that I toss the phone onto the seat between us.

  He puts a gentle hand on my arm. “You’re not the person you were before, Sara. You have to remember that. You can press charges, you know. What he did to you—deceiving you like that, moving into your apartment without your permission—he can go to jail for those things. Not to mention what he did with the paintings.”

  I wipe a finger underneath my wet eyes. “For months, I’ve wanted nothing more than to remember who I was. But now … I just want to forget.” I look back out the window, staring at the other cars as they race by. “I knew I wasn’t the best or the nicest person in the world, but I never imagined it would be this bad. The way I treated people, Denver—it’s unforgivable.”

  “It’s not that bad, Sara. So you were a bitch. So what? Lots of people are.”

  “And a liar and a cheat,” I say. “I’m no better than Oliver. Maybe we deserve each other.”

  Denver grabs my hand and holds it in his. “Stop it. You’re different now. The past is the past.”

  I shake my head. “He was sleeping with Anna,” I say. “You know that as well as I do. You read the texts yourself. Anna—as in the girl who died in the accident. I knew he was sleeping with her, and app
arently I didn’t care that much because I was with her that day. I know we were on our way to confront him with what he’d done. But still, based on the texts, it seemed like we were friends.” I cringe at the word, because based on the tone of my texts, I couldn’t have had any true friends. “Did I think so little of myself that I could turn the other cheek when he was cheating on me? Did I think so little of him that I thought it was okay to sleep with Benny?”

  Denver rubs his thumb across my knuckles as he holds my hand. It’s a rhythmic motion that calms me. He doesn’t say anything else. I’m not sure there is anything he can say. I was who I was, and nothing he says can change it.

  The cab pulls up to my building and I look up at it, thinking of how it’s just another reminder of a past I don’t want. “Will you help me get rid of his things? I know it’s a lot to ask.”

  “Of course,” he says. “It’s not a lot to ask. I’m happy to help.” He motions across the street. “There’s a UPS store. Why don’t I get some boxes and meet you upstairs?”

  When I walk into my apartment, I leave the door open for Denver. Then I look around and realize I have no idea what is Oliver’s and what is mine. I step into my studio and run my hand along the edge of my parents’ old door. This is the only room that truly feels like it belongs to me.

  I sink down to the floor and put my head into my hands, wondering how I got here. After a few minutes of self-loathing, I look up at one of my paintings. It’s one of my mom and dad. “I’m sorry I’m such a disappointment,” I say. “I know you wanted better of me. I know you expected better of me.”

  “Who are you talking to?” Denver asks from the living room.

  I quickly get up and wipe my eyes before I join him. “No one.”

  He’s got a dozen boxes under his arm. “Where should we start?” he asks. “His clothes?”

  I shake my head. “No. We’ll start with my clothes.”

  “Your clothes?”

  He draws his brows at me.

  “I realized when I walked into the apartment that I don’t know what’s his and what’s mine. The only things I know for sure that are mine is my studio and my clothes. I don’t want anything else. Even if we get rid of what we think was his, it won’t change the fact that I still don’t know this place. I hate it here, Denver.” I pick up the gold-rimmed wine glass that Oliver said was my favorite. I throw it against the wall, smashing it to pieces. “This place is everything I’m not. It’s part of a past I don’t want. Is that stupid of me? To want to leave everything behind and start fresh?”

  He kicks a shard of glass out of the way. Then he smiles at me. He smiles at me and somehow, I know everything will be okay.

  “It’s not stupid at all, Sara. Let’s get started,” he says, putting together one of the boxes.

  I nod back to my studio. “There’s too much for the two of us to move,” I say.

  “Let me take care of that,” he says. “We can go ahead and get your things packed, but we’ll just take the essentials for now.”

  Denver is quiet as we’re packing my belongings. Every once in a while, he pulls out his phone and sends a text. I begin to think that despite his honorable efforts, he might just be getting sick of coming to my rescue. Maybe he’s texting Nora. And I can’t help but wonder if she gets mad at all the time he spends with me. I know I would if I were her.

  Suddenly, he stops packing and sits on the bed. “Where will you go?” he asks.

  “I, uh … I hadn’t really gotten that far.”

  “Stay with me,” he says. “Just until you figure out what you want to do.”

  “With you?” I ask. “In your sister’s townhouse? That’s a huge imposition, Denver.”

  “It’s a huge townhouse,” he says. “Aspen and Sawyer are hardly ever there.”

  “I don’t know. I mean, they don’t even know me. And it’s not like I can’t afford to go to a hotel.”

  “You don’t want to stay in a hotel, Sara. Besides, they have a basement that would serve as a great art studio.”

  I’ve been to their townhouse before, but I never made it past the first floor. “They do?”

  He nods encouragingly.

  I think of how difficult it would be to paint while staying in a hotel. It would be nice to be able to paint while I look for a new place.

  “Still, it’s not your place to offer,” I say.

  “They already said it’s okay,” he tells me. He holds out his phone. “Want to see?”

  It dawns on me that the whole time we were packing, he wasn’t texting Nora; he was texting his sister.

  I want to say yes. I want to say yes so badly. But I’m not sure I should.

  Denver grabs my hand and pulls me down next to him. “Say yes.”

  “What about Nora?” I ask. “I have a hard time believing she’d be okay with it. Did you ask her?”

  “I’m not with Nora.”

  My surprised eyes snap to his. “You’re not? Since when?”

  “A few weeks now.”

  A few weeks? I wonder why he never said anything. “When you and I … in the studio.”

  He shakes his head. “I broke it off before then.”

  “Why?”

  Denver lets go of my hand and gets off the bed, pacing around the room. “I didn’t send those screenshots just for you,” he says nervously. “I selfishly did it for me, too.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean …” He runs his hands through his hair. “I mean I’m in love with you, Sara. I’ve been in love with you for months. I tried to deny it because you were engaged. I tried to stop myself from feeling that way by dating another woman. And I’m not ashamed to admit that I’m glad Oliver is a conniving back-stabbing prick. Because if he weren’t, you’d be over in London with him. I can’t tell you how relieved I was last night when I was listening to your conversation and found out you two hadn’t been together yet. Do you know how hard it’s been for me, thinking you’ve been in his bed all this time? And I’m not sure if this changes things. Maybe you won’t want to stay with me now. Maybe you don’t want me at all. But I’ve never felt a connection to another woman the way I feel it with you.” He stops pacing and sits on the chair in the corner. “I’m a rambling idiot. Say something.”

  “I …” My mind is still trying to absorb everything he said. He’s not with Nora. He loves me. Me! “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

  “You’d been through so much. I didn’t think it was fair to put you in that position. And I didn’t want to stand in the way of your happiness.”

  “My happiness?” I stand up, tears rolling down my cheeks. “Denver, you are my happiness.”

  “I am?”

  The way he’s looking at me, it’s like he’s just been told he won the lottery. He pushes himself up out of the chair and strides over to me, brushing a hair out of my eyes. Then he stares at me. He stares into me. And I tell him everything he needs to know without uttering any words at all.

  “Sara,” he says, just before his lips collide with mine.

  We’ve shared two kisses in the past few months. Stolen kisses. Forbidden kisses. But this one—this one is different. Because we’re free to be with each other. There is no guilt. No shame. No wondering what the other is thinking or feeling. This kiss is the answer to all the questions I’ve asked myself.

  I knew I wanted him. Deep down, I knew I wanted him more than I’d ever wanted anything. And I thought maybe he wanted me, too. But we both had other commitments. There were other people to think about.

  But now, as I stand here kissing him, I know what fools we’ve been. We denied our feelings for each other. We blindly went along with Oliver’s lies.

  I push the thought of Oliver out of my head, not letting him steal another moment from me. I get lost in Denver’s arms as he kisses me until we’re both gasping for air. He pushes me back and we fall onto my bed. I can feel his erection pressing into me. I groan beneath him as his lips devour my neck, my collarbone, the bare ski
n above the V of my shirt. I want him so badly my body is humming with anticipation. I want him to rip my clothes off and make love to me.

  But then I remember where we are.

  I pull away. “Not here. Not where I laid next to him.”

  Denver looks at the bed with disgust. “Right. Not here.” He rolls off me and props up on an elbow. “About the townhouse? What do you say? Will you stay with me until we get you settled somewhere else? No pressure. I don’t want you to do anything you aren’t comfortable with. I’ll sleep on the couch in the basement.”

  I put a hand on his chest and then rest my head on it. Then I look up at him with sultry eyes. “Nobody is sleeping on the couch, Denver.”

  A slow smile creeps up his face. “Really?”

  I nod. “Really.”

  “Well, damn, let’s finish getting you packed, then.” He gently pushes me off him and hops out of bed.

  I laugh at his eagerness. And for the next hour, as we pack up the rest of my clothes and then my studio, we share heated glances.

  I can’t wipe the smile off my face. I can’t remember a time when I was as happy as I am right now. And when I lock up my apartment for the very last time, I don’t look back. I promise myself never to look back again. Only forward. Because like Denver said—the past is the past.

  And I know for certain that the man standing next to me is my future.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  The last box barely even touches the floor before I’m back in Denver’s arms. We don’t bother unpacking. We don’t waste another minute on anything.

  “Do you know how long I’ve waited for this?” he asks between kisses.

  “Yes,” I answer breathily. “Because I’ve waited just as long.”

  He cups my face, looking down at me. “Have you really?”

  I nod. “It’s always been you, Denver. But I was trying to fit back into the life everyone was telling me I had. The doctors. Joelle. Oliver. You. Everyone knew more about my life than I did. And I found myself becoming a person I didn’t know. I was an actress playing a part. None of it felt real except when I was with you.”